


“what was that all about?”

by Durante243



Series: Ego, si quareis [1]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Jack, Lets talk about consent, M/M, Sad Ianto Jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-19
Updated: 2013-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-02 01:44:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Durante243/pseuds/Durante243
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The world spun a little more on its axis causing Ianto to wonder if he had anything left in his stomach to give it. It was sincerely the most drunk he had ever been in recollection, including that time he had learned uppers and downers didn't mix well. He gave a few dry heaves just to be sure, but as usual his body didn't listen to him.  </p><p>Jack wasn't the only one secretly out of his depth. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	“what was that all about?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a plot bunny thats been cuddling with me for a while. i've always been infatuated with the idea that Villains never see themselves as bad guys, and I think Ianto can see that too. 
> 
> I am a novice writer, please comment and critique. I'm also an american writer, so I'm using less english turn of phrases so I don't accidentally butcher them. sorry guys.

At this specific juncture in history Ianto Jones was completely and utterly engrossed by his shoes. They were shiny black, the shiny black dress shoes his father had always wanted to own but never really managed to. The man was a tailor, well versed in fashion and well dressed as a point of pride, but shoes never could rate a monthly renewal. After all, the man was a tailor not a cobbler.

Now Ianto bought a new pair every three months. Though this pair was four months old, considering he’d missed shopping in the ‘world isn’t about to end tomorrow’ window. It made him feel a little better that he had just threw up on them. 

The world hadn’t ended this week, contrary to popular belief-- Popular belief of the council, queen and purse holders. Jack was having a difficult time juggling both aliens and the world of politics, which really was more alien to him then actual physical aliens. Sure the man could charm his way out of being an offering to the Tarifan god of destruction just fine, but give him a council that wanted to know why Torchwood 3 spent 1% of budget on heating and 10% on take out and he was secretly out of his depth. 

The world spun a little more on its axis causing Ianto to wonder if he had anything left in his stomach to give it. It was sincerely the most drunk he had ever been in recollection, including that time he had learned uppers and downers didn't mix well. He gave a few dry heaves just to be sure, but as usual his body didn't listen to him. 

Jack wasn't the only one secretly out of his depth. 

Speaking of which, he still has some cash in his pocket. 

Stumbling he stands up from the bench, the world disagrees and decides to sit but fuck if Ianto cares anymore. He kicks off the dirty shoes his father could never afford and leaves them to stumble across the street to the hole in the wall bar he had vacated an hour ago. Maybe now they would start serving him again. 

“Heeey there buddy.” The official looking man at the door catches Ianto's weight with a hand to his chest. “I think when I told you to take a walk I meant further than a block.”

Ianto licks his lips, tries for speech, makes a few syllables, stops, looks down, and tries again. “I got better.”

“Yeah. And your shoes walked off without ya?” The bouncer wasn't being mean, just concerned.

“Left ‘em for the fairies,” Ianto admitted conspiratorially, “covered in organic matter, seemed an appro-pri-ate offering.” He sounded out the world slowly so he wouldn't sound drunk.

“Good thinking, maybe they’ll take away the killer hangover you’ll be havin’ come morning.”

“Probably not. Fairies are homicidal dicks.” Ianto explains.

“Right. Let me call you a cab.” The poor bouncer sat Ianto down on the steps.

“Are you asking?” Ianto dragged the man down next to him with surprising strength.

“‘Scuse me?” The bloke looked terrified as Ianto leaned against him.

“Are you asking if I’ll let you call me a cab or are you simply stating your course of action in such a way that I am left voiceless, unable to give a no, because you pretended to ask.”

“Wot?”

“It seems like a stupid in-quer-ie, doesn't it? But commands as questions poise a very sig-nif-i-cant problem. See these?!” Ianto pulls his sleeve back to show his bruised wrists, not allowing the bouncer any escape, “These were a question, but they weren’t really. It was a command.” The bouncer was stunned into stiff silence, staring at the drunken over-sharer. Ianto retreated back, cradling his wrists to himself. “I didn't want to.” He murmurs, “Didn't want to but who can say no to an indirect command?” awkward silence. “He could have asked.”

“Look… buddy…” The bouncer was torn between sympathy and awkward.

“Just because a man has an erection doesn't mean he wants it!” Ianto blurts. And that when he's sure he's done drinking, as he turns bright red. “I mean, its Harkness, can anyone escape erections around Harkness?!”

“Margaret,” the bouncer calls through the doorway, “can I get a cab out here ASAP?”

“Don't do it Margaret!” Ianto called in, pissed at the world, “I have a voice, I will use it! I say no!”

“Look fella, I'm just trying to help. For pete's sake, I’ll drive you home, my shift ends in ten.”

“Still not a question. To you gentlemen I say noooooo.” Ianto stumbles off the step. “I’m walking. Maybe I’ll get lucky and a weevil will eat me.”

“wot?”

“You’re right that's implausible. Weevils don't really eat people.” Ianto turns back to the bouncer, attempting to walk backwards, barefoot and drunk. “Goodnight good sir!”

“Hey!” the bouncer called, reaching out a hand to grab Ianto’s arm, “I don't think…”

With the reflexes of a man who saves the world on a regular basis, Ianto leveled a gun, muzzle point blank, at the bouncers head. “Touch me and die.” Ianto told him. Stone cold and sounding sober. They stood there, in silence, until Ianto finally snapped the safety back into place and turned and walked away. The bouncer stood there shocked.

“what was that all about?” Margaret asked the bouncer from the doorway of the bar, never having seen the fire arm.

“I have no god damn clue.” He shook his head and punched out.


End file.
